Scenes from a Couch
by ReverentMuse
Summary: I miss the couch from Season 2, so in honor, I have written a collections of one shots with it as a key factor.  Intentions of leaving this open ended and add as I get inspired .
1. Cold

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except the idea, otherwise there would be a certain Hitter stuffed into my closet. Please don't sue; I have nothing.

**Author's Note 1:** Yes, I've been neglecting _What Happens in Juarez_. I'm sorry. The Muse doesn't really want to work with that one right now. I'm going to try bribing her, here, soon. I guarantee nothing though. My Muse is a picky little….

**Author's Note 2:** I have to admit that I kinda miss the couch. As ugly and uncomfortable as it looked, it still was "The Briefing Couch" and made the team seem more like a family. Now it's just an office again.

So I'm going back to Season 2, and writing various scenes revolving around the couch... They're not great stories; I don't have a beta. I'm going to leave this one rather open ended. Hell, I might even do requests if you ask nicely.

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**COLD**

It was a late night. The microwave's digital clock blazed "11:47" in neon green. The only lights on in the apartment were a couple of table lamps in the living room and the six LCD television screens depicting four different football games, a hockey game, and an MMA fight. The smells of a delectable dinner still faintly lingered in the air. At long last, the apartment was quiet and void of the bickering and complaining that had reverberated off the walls only a few hours before. It was night, and the differences were laid aside for the time being in favor of unwinding from a particularly difficult job.

Nate had left the rest of them arguing to go to bed. The past few days of only a couple hours of sleep were finally catching up with him. And, for some reason, the rest of his crew's heated debate over something that had gone massively wrong in the mission was particularly jarring. He was grateful to have them back, but he had forgotten how they could bring out the worst in each other. He bid them adieu shortly after dinner and shut them out for the night. He didn't care whether they stayed or not, just so long as they left him alone.

Hardison picked one of the armchairs as his chilling spot. One leg was tossed over the arm and he shoveled popcorn from the bowl on his stomach into his mouth. Occasionally, he would mumble something at one of the screens, though no one understood what he was yelling about.

But it was the couch that was seeing the most action tonight. On one end, Sophie was curled up with the hideous green blanket on top of her. At the other, Parker rubbed her arms, her legs pulled up to her chest. In the middle, Eliot slouched; his head rested on the back, beer in one hand, legs propped up on the coffee table. His eyes danced over each of the screens, taking in the bashing and action on them.

"It's freezing in here," Sophie complained, shivering under the blanket.

"I know, right?" Parker answered, looking over at the Grifter.

"Eliot," Sophie whined, "Please be a dear and turn up the thermostat."

"What?" he glowered over at her, "No. I'm tired an' I'm watchin' the game. You do it." Sophie made another little whine, but made no inclination of moving.

"Hardison," Parker started, "Go turn up the heater."

"Mhpho ripftthh," the Hacker mumbled through popcorn, eyes never leaving the televisions.

No one made any attempt at getting up to go to the thermostat across the room. Everyone was far too comfortable to move. Even those on the couch, thin cushions and all, didn't want to leave their places. The only movement that occurred was Hardison's random pumping the air over a call, Eliot lifting his beer to his lips, and the two women randomly snatching their drinks from the coffee table and taking a sip.

However, there actually was movement from the Grifter and Thief. With each reach to their drinks, they would slowly inch their way to the middle of the couch. It was subtle movements, and therefore Eliot was completely unaware that he was about to come under attack. It was Parker who got to him first. "What the hell?" his attention was startled away from the games, as Parker lifted his arm and snuggled into his side. She tucked her legs up, her knees resting on his thigh and draped his arm back over her legs.

"You're warm and won't go turn up the heat," Parker rested her cheek on his shoulder, "Deal with it, Sparky." Eliot just shook his head at her and returned to the game.

By the next commercial break, Sophie had finally reached Eliot and had picked up his other arm and snuggled herself into his side, also draping his arm across her legs before resting her cheek on his shoulder. "Do I look like a freakin' blanket to you two?" he growled.

"What she said, Sparky," Sophie answered. Eliot just shook his head again and took a sip of his beer before replacing his arm over Sophie's legs. It wasn't so bad, he mused. Actually kind of comfy.

There was a snicker from the armchair and Eliot looked over to the Hacker. "What, Hardison?" Eliot snarled.

"Can I cuddle with yah too, man?" Hardison smiled.

"Hardison, I mean this in the kindest possible way," Eliot gave his own smirk as he raised his hand and extended his middle finger. Hardison gave a muffled bark of a laugh and turned his attention to the televisions again. "Yer just jealous," Eliot continued, lowering his arm back over Parker's legs, "that I got two gorgeous women curled up with me on tha couch and all you got is a bowl of popcorn."

"Yeah, man," Hardison turned back to him, "So jealous that I'm not curled up with two gorgeous, _sleepin_' women…"

Eliot's smile dropped. He looked over at Parker, and though he couldn't see her face, he could recognize the relaxed breathing of deep slumber. He looked over at Sophie. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed. He caught the dance of her eyelids that indicated she, also, was asleep.

He sighed and took another sip of beer. "So glad I'm appreciated aroun' here," he growled.

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_Yeah, I went for the cute factor again. Maybe next time I'll go with some whumpage. _

_Reviews are my life force. Let me know if you liked this, if you hated this, if I should continue… You know the drill._


	2. Tears

**Disclaimer:** _Yeah, the normal don't-sue-I-don't-have-anything-I'm-just-using-them-to-play mandate._

**Author's Note:** _After the night I had at work, I'm surprised that I didn't write one amazing Eliot whump. But alas, more fuzzy feelings. I have heard the requests for Eliot abuse, and promise that I will get to it soon. This one just begged to be written first._

_And thank you to everyone who favorited, alerted, and reviewed! I love you all and thank you so much!_

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**Tears**

She had no idea where she was going as she blindly ran away from the studio. Tears streamed down her face and all she heard was the smacking of her shoes' rubber soles on the concrete. She was faintly aware of the buzzing in her ear. It didn't even faze her that the buzzing was actually the members of her team trying to convince her to stop or to talk with them. She just wanted to be away, even from them. She trusted in the worn tennies to know their where they were going, because she, sure as hell, didn't.

When Parker neared Nate's building, she slowed her sprint to a very brisk walk. Forcefully, she shoved the door open, and almost barreled down the little old lady from 1A, the one who always smelled of cloves and sugar cookies. Ignoring the old woman's banter, Parker marched right up to the elevator and jammed her thumb into the button so hard it smarted. Mercifully, the doors dinged open and she was almost to one of her safe havens.

She collapsed to the floor in front of the couch and sobbed into the cushions. She brought her arms over her head, blocking out the world, trying to suppress that buzzing. Wait, that wasn't buzzing. She pulled out the earbud and tossed it someplace. Her tiny body shook from the pure, raw emotion- both from the deep wound her brother's death had been, and from the absolute violation Rand had done to her. She hated him; loathed him.

And, until she was forced to remember that horrendous day, she realized how much she missed her brother. The bicycle. Damnit. Why, the hell, did he have to bring up the frickkin' bicycle? This is why she hated psychics. They would know what happened and they would blame her too. Or pity her. Parker didn't know which was worse. If only she hadn't taught him to ride that bike. He would still be alive, her family wouldn't have been ripped apart, she wouldn't have gone through the system, and, hell, she might even be normal.

She hated that bastard. Effing hated him.

The sobbing subsided, and she leaned back against the sofa. She had nothing left to give; nothing left to cry. Her whole body felt completely raw, and the occasional sob would rake her body. She was tired, empty, and her legs felt like jelly. It was quiet through the entire building, so she was able to hear the elevator ding and four sets of shoes close in on the door. Eliot was right; there was a very distinctive sound to everything.

Oh God. They were there. They now knew what happened and they, too, would blame her. Despite her fear of facing them, she couldn't bring herself to move or compose herself. She just existed, and at this moment she didn't want to do that, even.

As the door opened, she mentally prepared for their accusing, and was getting ready to run again. "Parker?" came Nate's cautious, even gentle voice.

The couch was comfier than the floor, but not by much. Parker had traded her spot on the hardwood to lay curled up next to the armrest, cuddling a decorative pillow. Absentmindedly, she plucked the fringe around it. She wasn't happy, but she certainly wasn't miserable. She wanted him dead after they had shown her the footage of how Rand had tricked her into spilling her biggest secret. Eliot had even offered to kill Rand for her, and that brought a smirk to her face. Nate, always the voice of reason, was reluctant to allow bloodshed, but did vow that the jackass would get his comeuppance. That would have to do.

Her crew- her friends- was supportive and consoling. They hadn't yelled or blamed her. They were gentle and spoke softly, as if their voices would break her. When Nate stood to go to the kitchen, he had reached down to touch her head as he passed. Tara made some tea for her and set the cup on the coffee table before going back to plot with Nate in the dining room. Judging by the rattling and the sound of chopping, Eliot must be fixing dinner. Only Hardison now sat with her on the couch. He wasn't completely at the other end. He didn't sit on top of her either. He gave her space, but occasionally he would reach out, set his hand on her calf and gently rub small circles with his thumb. After a few rotations, he would remove his hand again. She was never a touchy-feely person. The small gesture was enough of reassurance that he was there for her if she needed someone, but it was on her terms.

"A'ight, guys," Eliot said from the kitchen, "Clear some room." The sound of rustling papers and porcelain plates hitting a hard surface came from behind her.

"I'll set the table," Tara said and there came more rattling.

"Parker, Hardison," Eliot called out, "Dinner's up. C'mon."

Hardison stood up and rubbed her knee. "Let's go, Park."

"Go on," she answered, "I'm not really hungry right now." Hardison shrugged and went off into the dining room.

There was some mumbling in between the clanking of plates as food was passed around. "Parker!" Eliot called out again, "C'mon, Darlin'. I got food for ya."

"I will in a little bit," Parker said back, "I'm not really hungry." There was some more mumbling and more clanking.

Heavy boots clomped over the hardwood floor up to the couch. A plate with twice baked potatoes, a honey barbeque pork chop, and even a small side of macaroni and cheese (with her favorite wagon wheel pasta) past in front of her vision and the plate waived back and forth before her. The smell was delicious. She smiled, but when she went to reach for it, Eliot pulled it away. A little whine escaped from the back of her throat and he snickered. He stepped forward once more and she sat up to take the plate from him. It was almost within her grasp, when Eliot pulled it away again and took a couple of steps backwards towards the dining room. Parker sighed and stood up to follow him. Eliot grinned and with a wink, tilted the plate in front of him, careful not to let any of the food drop. She returned his smile and followed him up to the table where everyone else sat watching this little game of cat and mouse. He pulled out her chair for her, and after she had sat, he placed her plate in front of her. "There you go, Momma," Eliot sat down on his own chair and picked up his silverware.

Parker looked around at their own little dysfunctional family. Hardison smiled at her, the edges of his eyes softer than when he normally smiled. At the head of the table, Nate gave a brief smile and nod to her. To his left, Tara; at first the intruder, in the spot that should be reserved for Sophie, but has been gradually was winning them over. Including now, pouring out wine for everyone. Finally, Eliot, already cutting his pork chop up, glanced to her. "I been slavin' in that kitchen for you, Darlin'," he raised an eyebrow, "I ain't takin' this 'I ain't hungry' bull." He pointed a fork at her.

She smiled, "Thank you, Eliot." To appease the beast, she stabbed a few of the wagon wheels, and stuffed them into her mouth. Mmmmm…. Eliot makes some amazing food… And how he could make something like macaroni and cheese gourmet was beyond her.

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_Hope that you enjoyed. Remember to use the glorious hotlink at the bottom! Pretty please!_


	3. A Shoulder

_**Disclaimer:**__ Don't sue. Just tell me to stop playing and I will. But please don't tell me to stop._

_**Author's Note:**__ I win! And in turn, you win! I have heard the pleading for Eliot whump and I have obliged you. I originally had a different idea for EW, but after a discussion with two friends, I was persuaded that it would not be in character (no matter how hysterical it would be). I was also planning on having some sort of fluff thing during one of Eliot's cognizant periods, but that could always be a later "couch session"._ _Without further adieu:_

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**A Shoulder...**

The door to condo 2A flew open with such vehemence that it almost slammed the wall behind it. Sophie's black stilettos hurriedly _click-clacked_ across the hardwood floor to the couch. "Damn it, Eliot," the Grifter threw his favorite line back at the bruised and bloody man being half supported, half carried by Nate and Hardison. "We should have taken you to the hospital." Quickly, she tossed the loose papers and random miscellany onto the coffee table behind her.

"I don' need to go to the hospital, Soph," Eliot groaned as he lowered himself to the black cushions. "Fuuu…." He cut the cuss word off due to the glare he was receiving from her. "Sorry, Darlin'. I'll be fine." Momentarily, Eliot closed his eyes, then reopened them wide, trying to get them to focus. The burning in his ribs combined with the shooting pain in his pectoral muscle made breathing almost unbearable. He was bad. He knew he really should have gone to the hospital, but that would involve questions. Trying to explain to a doctor that the ribs were broken via a six foot fall to concrete, his shoulder at one point was dislocated by being pulled in a direction other than any that it normally could rotate, and the concussion was sustained by his head being repeatedly beat into a cement floor was just not going to happen anytime soon.

Sophie shook her head. "Typical, hard-headed male," she sighed. The insult was directed at the Hitter, but she glared at Nate while it was delivered. A few bangs and rattles from the kitchen drew her attention. Parker was scrambling around, assembling an ice pack, her eyebrows knitted in concern. Sophie uncrossed her arms and went to help the Thief.

Nate looked down at Eliot who was using a scrap of cloth to daub a few of the scraps that still oozed blood. "Ears still ringing?" he asked.

"A little," Eliot nodded, then immediately regretted it. The room spun and bile started to well up into his throat. Nate placed a hand on the younger man's better shoulder to steady him.

Hardison came back from the bathroom carrying a large white first aid kit and some towels. At the same time, Parker came around the other side of the couch and handed over the ice pack. "Thank you, Parker," Eliot sat back and laid his head back, "If I could get a couple more, that'd be great."

"Not just yet," Sophie came back with a glass of water, and placed it on the coffee table. She opened up the kit and started rifling through the contents to find the supplies that she needed.

"You go through a lot of ice, Sparky," Parker balanced herself on the back of the couch.

Eliot glared at her. "I wonder why…" He closed his eyes for a few seconds more before opening them once more at looking at Nate and Hardison. An understanding passed between the three men.

"Parker," Nate started, "I think I left my cell phone in the car. Could you run down and get it? Sophie, help her please."

"No you didn't," Parker corrected, "I saw you put it in your pocket before helping Eliot out."

"Maybe it was the file," the Mastermind shook his head.

"Why would you bring the file with you?" the blonde inquired.

"I felt it was the thing to do. Please, Parker. Soph." He gestured to the door.

Parker wasn't the only one who looked at Nate quizzically. Sophie had much the same puzzlement. Nate looked at her, then looked to Eliot and tilted his head to his own shoulder. The knowledge of what needed to be done dawned on the Grifter's face. "I believe Nate's right, Parker," Sophie came around and gently guided Parker to the door, "Let's go see what Nate forgot in the car."

"But he didn't forget anything," Parker's voice was heard just before the door closed.

Hardison took a big breath in and slowly let it out. "Are you up for this, Eliot?" Nate asked.

"No," he groaned as he sat forward, "but it's gotta be done before it starts healing this way."

"How ya wanna do this, man?" Hardison put a knee on the couch next to the Hitter.

"Uhh… Shit," Eliot breathed the pain through his teeth, "Um… Nate pulls my upper body one way; you pull my arm quickly the other." It certainly wasn't the right way of doing things, but in the time allotted, it was the best that would do. His shoulder was already twelve shades of screwed from other injuries, what was more damage? "Oh, an' before we git started, bring me a bucket."

The bucket was brought and placed between Eliot's feet. Nate wrapped an arm around Eliot's chest, while Hardison grabbed onto the Hitter's bicep. "On the count of three," Nate said, "One. Two… Three." The two men pulled, and Eliot screamed.

"Crap," Hardison stated. The jarring had failed to put the bungled joint back into place.

"Try again," Nate resumed his position, as did Hardison. "One… Two… Three."

More pulling, louder shrieking, and still the shoulder still did not budge. Pin pricks tormented Eliot's eyes as tears threatened to spill. He'd endured long torture sessions before. Water torture in Tianjin. Russian Roulette in Novgorod. The rats in Pakistan. And this fairly simple exercise was akin to all of them. He grabbed the bucket and held onto it while the world started to swim.

Unbeknownst to him, Nate and Hardison were having a silent conversation about what to do next. Through hand gestures, the Mastermind explained what they needed to do to get the difficult shoulder to cooperate. Hardison nodded and looked down to Eliot, who placed the bucket on the floor again. "Ya ready to try this again, man?" Hardison asked.

"Yeah," Eliot said, bracing himself. Once more Nate put an arm around Eliot's chest and Hardison grabbed his bicep.

"On the count of three," Nate looked at Hardison and nodded, "One…" Nate and Hardison pulled before Eliot realized what was going on, and the problematic shoulder went back into place with a sickening crack. Eliot cried out choice cuss words and instantly grabbed the bucket as lunch tried coming back up. The dry heaving was ungodly to his cracked ribs. Nate placed a hand on his back as the shutters receded. Eliot groaned, placing the bucket back on the floor, and leaned back into the couch cushions. Hardison handed him the ice pack and he smiled placing it to his aching shoulder.

Finally the pain was withdrawing.

"I told you he didn't forget anything," Parker's voice came through the opening door.

"It didn't hurt to double check, Parker," Sophie entered the room and made a bee line towards the men. She noted the relief on Eliot's face and took out the astringent, butterfly closures, cotton balls from the abandoned first aid kit. "Have you taken any ibuprofen yet, Eliot?"

"Not yet, Soph," Eliot answered, "Just want to take a moment before moving again."

"Understandable," she poured three of the brown tablets into her hand and picked up the glass of water. "Here." He downed the medication and took a swig of the water.

"If I fall asleep," Eliot sounded distant, "please wake me every two to three hours."

"Absolutely," Sophie poured a little of the astringent on a cotton puff.

Parker returned to her perch on the back of the couch and watched the nursing. "Now I know he's feeling better," she stated.

"How's that?" Sophie inquired, gently dabbing the gash in his forehead. Even Eliot opened his eyes to listen to the Thief's judgment of his healing.

"He's got his rumble back," she matter-of-factly put it, as if it should have been obvious. "He rumbles when he talks and growls when he's cranky." The Hitter and Grifter both smiled at her simplicity.

Nate busily made a fresh pot of coffee, and Hardison flipped through the collection of takeout menus before settling on one of the nearby Chinese venues. Eliot was vaguely aware of Hardison dialing a phone. Before the blackness of sleep overtook him, he heard the order started. "Hi. Yeah… I'd like to make an order for pick up…. Yeah, I need a large order of kung pao chicken…"

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_**Parting Words:**__ Thoughts, concerns, suggestions? I implore you to use the nifty little hot link at the bottom. And again, a huge thank you to all who already have rendered their thoughts. _


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